The Man Behind the Legend
by That Crazy Guy
Summary: "Inquisitor" and "Herald of Andraste", these are but two of the names he had earned for his deeds. To some a savior, to others an affront to all that is good. Like all figures that play a part in shaping the world most only see or learn of the legend. This is the story of the man who bears these titles, The Man Behind the Legend
1. A Haunting Reminder

**Author's Notes:** I expect this to be a short story I hope to have done before Inquisition is released on Tuesday, I expect this to run 3 or 4 chapters total. This is a spiritual sequel of sorts to my one-shot story "Birds of Prey"

Though this chapter is fairly mild if you're looking for a story filled with sunshine and rainbows you'd best go somewhere else.

For everyone else please read and drop a review

**Chapter 1: A Haunting Reminder**

Many months have passed since the Inquisition was founded and the Breach was at least temporarily stabilized. Much to everyone's surprise a Mage who had somehow survived the blast which destroyed Haven and claimed the lives of thousands of Mages, Templars, Civilians, and others in the blink of an eye. His miraculous survival combined with the fact he apparently met a mysterious female figure within the Fade caused the people to start calling him "the Herald of Andraste." A moniker the man himself seemed to view with a certain measure of disdain.

Since the stabilization of the Breach the Inquisition has grown into a powerful force in Thedas, its influence growing in Orlais and Ferelden. They had gone from a small force of "heretics" in the eyes of the Chantry to a major military and political power in Thedas' chaotic landscape. Day by day their position seemed to strengthen with more territory falling under their control, more supplies such as food and weapons, increasing commerce helped grant the Inquisition some much needed coin, and of course the most valuable asset of all people who put their skills to work for the restored order.

"Our influence in Ferelden is growing steadily" a black haired human woman with matching armor and a vertical scar on her left cheek explained "thanks to the help of King Alastair the land is for the most part experiencing a tenuous piece though there are still problems with groups of rogue Mages and Templars."

The former Seeker sat at a simple wooden table with maps of Ferelden and Orlais laid next to each other dotted with black stands of the all seeing eye which represented their order. To think that their influence was once confined to the keep they sat in at Skyhold was hard to imagine.

Across from Cassandra sat a young human man with dark brown hair which had been recently cut short making him look far more professional. He had long diagonal scar across the left side of his neck. He wore dark black robes with the emblem of inquisition was emblazed on both the upper chest and back. His dark grey eyes were focused on the matter at time.

"Looks like we need to start focusing our efforts on Orlais then" Falke Trevelyan more commonly known as the Inquisitor or the Herald of Andraste sighed heavily "I'll ask Sera and Varric to have their spies look into the players, see what we can dig up, hopefully save some lives in the process."

"Do you really want to put so much faith in those two?" Cassandra asked her personal feelings towards both the Elf and the Dwarf were clear.

"You can't deny Varric has a good network" Falke chuckled "and of course Sera seems to have a virtual army of beggars, thieves, smugglers, and whores feeding her information, they're bound to find something we can use."

"Do you find everything funny?" Cassandra asked in sheer disbelief at the man's levity.

"It's a coping mechanism" Falke answered with a contemplative expression.

Cassandra did not know what to think, Falke had never really spoken too much of himself, despite having fought beside him so many times she still did not know much about him at all. He brought no real possessions of his life before he became known as the Herald so even the contents of his quarters provided little insight to him.

"You never struck me as being very religious" Cassandra stated as she gestured towards several books on the famous prophetess _"it's past time I figured out just who I'm dealing with."_

"I'm not, I stopped believing when I was five" Falke stated plainly "I'm just curious."

"About what exactly?" Cassandra inquired, normally she'd take issue with someone who would dismiss the Maker and his bride so casually.

"About the woman behind the legend" Falke answered calmly as he pulled a tome from the shelf that looked as if it had survived a fire "did you know in Tevinter they believe that Andraste was not a prophetess but a powerful Mage?" he gently laid the fragile text on the table "they say that the 'Maker' was a powerful fade spirit and the reason she didn't scream out when they burned her was because they had made her Tranquil."

"Their teachings are all lies used to justify the Magisters' tyranny" Cassandra stated bluntly "you and I have both heard the stories and Dorian has confirmed them."

"And others would say that the Chantry's teachings are also lies to justify the subjugation of Mages among other charming acts it has engaged in over the centuries" Falke replied lightly as he gently placed the book back on its shelf "relax Cassandra, that's what other people are saying, if you keep getting this worked up over what other people believe you're going to give yourself a conniption" once again the young man chuckled which annoyed the former Seeker.

"So what do you believe?" Cassandra asked "and this time why don't you actually answer my question?" she added in annoyance _"to think people really consider this man to be the Herald of Andraste." _

"Not much I'm afraid" Falke answered with a shrug "even when she was alive pretty much everyone who spoke of her did so to further one political agenda or another" he pulled up his chair and took a sip of water "it's fairly safe to say she was an astute politician, a gifted speaker, and she had some talent for warfare given the fact she waged a successful rebellion against the Imperium" he emptied his goblet "maybe she was the prophetess and bride to the one true god and her murder caused that god to turn his back on this world, perhaps she was a powerful and gifted Mage, for all we know she could have been both."

"An interesting perspective I suppose" Cassandra stated.

"Unfortunately, unless there's some cache of ancient writings by Andraste herself, I fear the 'truth' of the woman behind the legend has been lost to history" Falke sighed heavily as he gazed out a nearby window "and even if such a discovery were made, it's likely that both the Chantry and the Imperium would want to censor if not outright destroy the relics depending on the contents."

"And what of the woman you met in the Fade?" Cassandra inquired.

"Things are rarely what they appear to be in the Fade, that's one of the first things you learn when you're a Mage" Falke stated solemnly "perhaps it was Andraste I met, perhaps it was a demon trying to toy with my mind, or perhaps it was a benevolent spirit who wished save me or this world for whatever reason…"

"You seem disturbed" Cassandra noted.

"Varric told you didn't he, about the Mage Anders and Justice I mean" Falke replied solemnly "about how he took a benevolent spirit into himself only for his anger and bitterness to corrupt it…and then…"

Cassandra did know, all too well, after all it was because in large part to that Mage and Spirit that the whole world had been thrown into chaos and war, though there were other factors to blame as well. She didn't have to ask the young Mage anything, she could tell just by looking at him that he feared perhaps he took a benevolent Fade Spirit into his body and that his own negative emotions might be twisting it into something terrible.

"Ah if it isn't my favorite couple of cut throats" a familiar voice called drawing their attention to a certain beardless Dwarf "Cullen and his men have just returned from their little excursion into the Hinterlands, apparently they brought the leader of a rogue band of Mages in for trial."

"Lovely, and to think six months ago I hoped we wind everything up" Falke sighed as he pulled up his hood to make it harder for anyone to gauge his feelings and grabbed a small sheathed knife with his left hand before following the Dwarven story teller.

Cassandra followed the Dwarf and the Mage to the Great Hall, though there was still sections blocked off by scaffolding the difference from when they first laid on it were astounding. Simple yet elegant stained glass windows filled the hall with a gentle light. Numerous black banners with the white all seeing-eye emblazoned on the center draped the walls throughout the lands, they sent a simple but powerful message which could be summed up in four words "we are watching you", for some they were a symbol of fear, for others hope.

"All stand for the Herald of Andraste" a young man who effectively served as Skyhold's steward said with a surprisingly commanding voice.

The people assembled were a combination that Cassandra would have had a hard time believing if someone told her that they would not only be standing under one roof, but they also wouldn't be actively trying to kill each other. There were former Seekers who like Cassandra remained loyal to Divine Justinia and helped found the Inquisition along with their spy master Leliana and their chief diplomat Josephine.

To the left as came in through the main entrance stood the Iron Bull, a Qunari mercenary with a missing eye, his face carried his usual bemused expression as some of his men paid Falke their unusual salutes. Across from him stood Sera, an elven woman with short unevenly cut blonde hair surrounded by raggedly dressed individuals, she nodded to the Inquisitor though she still seemed to not like being amongst so many "big wigs" as opposed to the back alleys or taverns.

As they approached the throne they were greeted by a diverse mix of individuals and groups who had joined the Inquisition at one point and for one purpose or another. Former Mages of the Circle, most of them fought for the rebellion, some were lifelong Apostates, and a few were even Blood Mages, desperate times truly did call for desperate measures if Cassandra was fighting **with them** and not against them.

There were a number of former Templars who like Ser Cullen grew disillusioned with the Order after the actions of Knight Commanders Meredith and Lambert. There were also priestesses of Andraste dressed in the signature robes, mostly their work consisted of tending to the wounded and providing spiritual services for those that wished them. Next to them stood a number of warriors and priests of the various tribes and faiths which dotted the outskirts of Ferelden and other religions.

Across from them stood a number of Dalish Elves who wore their traditional elven garbs. As usual they greeted Falke with "Inquisitor" and "Ancestors keep you." Cassandra remembered when they first joined and every other word from them seemed to involve some variation of the word "Shemlen" thankfully the had grown slightly more tactful since then.

In the center stood the throne of the ancient lord who had commanded the keep long ago. In front several individuals stood in a straight line. From left to right as you faced the throne there stood the bald, plainly dressed elven apostate Solas, to his left stood Blackwall a middle aged Grey Warden with thick hair which matched his name. Next was Dorian, a Tevinter Mage with white robes and a very distinct and flamboyant mustache. And at the end was the ever distinctly dressed Vivienne, First Enchanter of her Circle though that title had no real meaning at the moment.

"At ease" Falke called out as he took his seat, Varric took his place next to Solace and Cassandra stood next to Vivienne, towards the back corner stood Cole a young man with messy blonde hair that covered his eyes "bring forth the accused" his voice was calm but commanding as the large main doors opened as an elven woman with messy blonde hair dressed in dirty tattered robes was lead in by the former Knight Captain and his men "so this is the Mage I've heard so much about Ser Cullen?"

"She is, Inquisitor" Cullen replied as he tightly gripped her bound heads to make sure he kept her magic suppressed.

"What are her crimes?" Falke asked stoically.

"She lead a band of marauding Mages throughout the Hinterlands, Inquisitor" Cullen began "they raided numerous villages, took scores of slaves, and sacrificed dozens for blood magic rituals" normally such accusation would illicit gasps of shock and disgust but everyone in the hall had heard so many terrible stories that they had grown largely numb "according to survivors this one enjoyed tying up her victims before leaving them to burn to death in their own homes."

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" Falke asked calmly as his eyes focused on the elven woman.

The elven Mage shot Cullen a look of pure hatred before turning her gaze towards Falke and smiling darkly "I see so the stories were true after all…this Herald of Andraste really is a Mage after all…from Ostwick I heard."

"Have you nothing to say in your defense?" Falke repeated dryly "just so we're clear your life is on the line."

The woman remained silent for a few seconds before responding "I can not confess to my so called 'crimes' for that would imply some measure of guilt which I do not feel, nor can I deny them for I have committed the deeds."

"You bitch" Cullen hissed as he tightened his grip causing the Mage to fall to her knees.

"Calm yourself Ser Cullen" Falke instructed as stood up from his throne and locked gazes with his fellow Mage and asked "Why?"

"You should know the answer to that" the Mage stated with venom in her voice "for a thousand years the Chantry has taken everything from we Mages" the hatred in her eyes radiated despite her magic being suppressed by Cullen's Templar skills "they have to pay for that, both the Chantry and the mundane who supported them."

"So it's vengeance then" Falke sighed heavily.

"The 'mundane'?" Cassandra asked.

"It's a slur some Mages use to refer to non-Mages" Vivienne whispered softly her eyes showing nothing but contempt.

"Very well" Falke continued his voice now carried a heavy tone "as leader of the Inquisition and Lord of Skyhold, I Falke Trevelyan hereby find you guilty of murder, slavery, and crimes against the realm and sentence you to die" no one in hall uttered a single word "have you any last words?"

The woman was again silent for several moments before finally saying "if I am to die today, it will not be at the hands of a filthy Templar!"

Much to the shock of everyone in the hall Ser Cullen glowed a light blue collar before collapsing to the ground as the light seemed to be absorbed into the elf's body. Before anyone could react, the rope binding the Mage's fell to the ground in a small blaze of flames and with a wave of magic power Ser Cullen and several of his men were thrown backwards.

Grinning evilly the Mage turned her gaze back towards the throne. However the Inquisitor was no longer standing in front of his seat of power. While her back had been turned and everyone else was reeling in shock, Falke had utilized a spell known as "Fade Step" which propelled him to right in front of the renegade Mage.

So shocked was the woman that she barely registered when his left hand gripped her from behind her left shoulder. However, she did feel the cold steel of Falke's knife as it pierced her chest and blood instantly began to pour forth from the resulting wound.

The two Mages locked gazes as the elven woman admired the cold focus in Falke's eyes while also seeing how upset he was "I…suppose there are worst ways to die…" she said weakly with a smile as she lifted the blood stained fingers of her right hand to Falke's face "…I'm glad I could at least be killed by…someone…who…understands me…" the life then faded from the criminal Mage causing her arm to fall limp leaving thin trails of blood down the left side of Falke's face.

"I don't understand, I was suppressing her magic, how in the Maker's name did she do that?" Cullen asked in shock as he struggled to his feet, the former Templar felt as if he had run five miles in full plate armor "just what did she do to me?"

"You'll be fine Ser Cullen, you just need rest and I would recommend a hot meal" Falke assured the man as he removed his knife from the woman's chest and wiped the blood clean from the blade using her robes before sheathing it "that was a spell developed for combatting Templars, it works by drawing power from the Lyrium present within a Templar's body to counteract magical suppression."

"How exactly do you know this?" Cullen inquired curiously as he tried to digest what Falke had just taught him.

"That spell…was one of my master's creations" Falke answered softly with more than a hint of trouble in his voice as he closed the Mage's eyes and clasped her hands together before standing up "Bull, Sera, Varric…" he called out causing the Qunari, Elf, and Dwarf, to jump to attention "…I need a damn drink and to be around people who can make me laugh, if there is nothing then this court is hereby adjourned."

"_Well that was…unexpected"_ Cassandra thought as the hall began to fill with gossip as Falke left with his drinking buddies "someone clean up the body and prepare it for cremation" she commanded as she walked towards Josephine.

"I…I don't recall ever seeing the Inquisitor that…troubled before" Josephine stated as the crowds began to empty.

"I don't think anyone has" Cassandra replied.

"I think it would be best to check on him" Josephine said, concern was evident in her voice.

Cassandra nodded before silently following their leader and his compatriots. They didn't have to go far, the nice thing about Skyhold was that even though it was large, everything was within easy walking distance. Within a matter of minutes the two women arrived at the tavern, neither of them frequented it but they acknowledged the practical benefits it brought to the Inquisition. After all most of their people were constantly putting their lives on the line without some form of outlet morale would go straight to the void.

The building itself was a fairly large three story structure. The second and third floors were lined with a number of beds meant for patrons who had drank too much, but from what Cassandra had heard thanks to Varric, Sera, and the Iron Bull they were frequently occupied by pairs and occasionally trios for other means of relaxation.

The first floor was where the action was at, in the back corner was a long bar manned by a Dwarven and Elven man who kept all matter of intoxicating beverage flowing for lone patrons taking some enjoyment after a long day's work in the farms and stables. In the center of the adjacent wall was a massive fireplace which provided warmth and light for the patrons on one side and a nice cooking fire for the staff on the other. As usual there was a bard singing various hymns to provide some entertainment, some of the songs were decidedly less wholesome than others.

The patrons were a broad combination of humans, elves, dwarves, and even the occasional Qunari dressed in all matter of garb. Most seemed to virtually inhale both their drinks and whatever food they had ordered in between bouts of laughing at crude jokes at their tables. A few were even wound up enough to start dancing on the tables only to fall face forward to the ground to the amusement of all present.

A number of small alcoves had been created in the wall opposite the fireplace where some tables have been placed. This allowed groups to eat and drink at a table which would allow them some manner of privacy thanks to the stone walls. In the alcove directly across from the fireplace they found Falke and his little party. Cassandra couldn't help but cringe slightly at the sight of Sera making some strange gesture with her arms as she stood in front of the table, she was certain the elf was saying something raunchy judging by the laughs of her male companions.

"Sera, you are a damn lunatic" Falke chuckled from the back of the table as he pressed his hand against his chest to support his ribs "please don't ever change" the Iron Bull and Varric seemed to nod in agreement as they sat to his left and right side respectively.

"Oh you don't need to worry about that…" Sera grinned before noticing their guests "…okay…I wasn't expecting to see the two of you here…"

"We were just concerned after what happened in court today" Josephine explained taking note of the casks of ale standing next to Sera "may we join you?"

"I don't think anyone here is the type to deny the company of two lovely ladies such as yourselves" Falke answered in a bemused tone of voice causing Cassandra to raise an annoyed eye brow and Josephine to chuckle slightly "I should warn you though, once Sera reaches her fourth or fifth round she turns into a real fiend."

"Hey I thought you and I were partners" Sera stated in an annoyed tone of voice as the other two women sat at the ends.

"We are which is why I'm warning them, you know if you try anything Cassandra here will kick your ass" Falke replied before turning to his chief diplomat and the woman who was essentially his second in command but before he could speak.

"So Falke mind telling us what's going on?" Varric asked curiously.

"It was nothing" Falke answered though his lie fooled nobody.

"Bull shit" Cassandra retorted "we all saw you in the keep, none of us have ever seen you like that."

"She's right" the Iron Bull said plainly "I once saw you get slammed against a wall by a guy with one hand over your shoulder and the other wrapped around your neck, you ignited your fingers on your free hand and gauged his eyes out before frying his brains, the whole process took about two seconds" he recalled causing Josephine's mouth to gawk slightly at the brutality before draining his massive stein "and you still didn't look even remotely as disturbed by that than you did just now with a simple stabbing."

"Face it Falke, if Bull and Choir Girl noticed then it really is **that** obvious" Varric stated with a somewhat amused tone of voice earning a glare from the former Seeker while the Bull simply took it in stride.

"Fine…" Falke sighed in defeat as he took a sip of ale "…I'm just bothered because she…she said I understood her…"

"I find that hard to believe" Josephine said softly "ever since we met you've conducted yourself in a benevolent if sometimes harsh matter, I can't see you having enough in common with a murderer to…"

"The problem is I **do** have enough in common with her" Falke stated heavily "I understand all too well what lead her and her band to do what they did" he emptied his tankard and gestured the Iron Bull to give him a refill "I saw it all in her eyes; the anger, the sorrow, the desperation, and sheer feeling of powerlessness…even as she died with some measure of content, it was there up to her last moment of life."

"I don't believe I've ever met a mage who felt powerless" Cassandra stated in calm confusion "if anything they seem to feel the exact opposite and…" the former Seeker found herself at a loss for words as Falke looked at her with a completely broken face.

"You don't know how cruel you're being, do you?" Falke asked weakly "tell me something have you ever felt weak and powerless at any point in your life Cassandra?" the former Seeker nodded "I see, well try to imagine feeling like that all the time every minute of every day from early childhood to your very last breath."

"Lord Trevelyan, we're…worried about you" Josephine said gently earning nods from the other gathered members of the Inquisition "we want to help you but…we can't if we don't know anything about you…"

"Are you sure you want to know?" Falke asked as he took another sip of ale "it's a long dull story I'm afraid."

"We've got time, plus we're all curious" Varric assured him.

"Alright then, Bull you'd better tell the server to bring us another cask of ale when she comes by" Falke replied calmly as he looked at his mug heavily "I suppose this story begins in Ostwick where I was born…"

**Author's Notes:** I foresee this story having two or three more chapters, I hope to have it all uploaded by Monday evening so it'll all be out of the way in time for Inquisition. In the meantime please leave a review.


	2. Innocence Lost

**Chapter 2: Innocence Lost**

* Year 17 of the Dragon Age*

Although far from being as wealthy and powerful like the great City-States of Kirkwall and Starkhaven. The city of Ostwick's position along the coast where the Waking Sea met the Amaranthine Ocean made it a frequent stop for ships from Antiva, Rivain, and Orlais ensuring most of the citizenry enjoyed a reasonably comfortable life and the nobility lived the life of luxury. This position was only strengthened by the mountains to the north making the city almost impossible to invade making the city as safe as could be reasonably expected though it had endured Qunari assaults back in the Storm Age.

Among the numerous noble clans that ruled Ostwick few were as old and venerated as the Trevelyan family. Wealthy, politically astute, deep ties to virtually aspect of day to day life in Ostwick, and of course the power that came along with all those things meant my family had a history of being the go to family for the Teryn whenever problems arose, that is whenever it wasn't one of our own with his or her ass on the throne of course.

My grandfather was the head of the family at this point in time, though due to his steadily advancing age he had begun to defer more and more power to his heir, my mother Abigail. I'm told that in her youth she was considered the jewel of Ostwick; brilliant, a skilled marksman, devout, and a beautiful woman with flowing brown hair and grey eyes.

Prior to me she had three children who like me inherited her hair and eyes. First was my brother Ulrich, twelve years my senior he had a great mind for business and was incredibly strong. Thanks to the Trevelyan lineage, his natural talent, and my mother's machinations he was promised to the Teryn's daughter at an early age as part of a political alliance. It was virtually a foregone conclusion that in time one of our family membera would sit on the throne once again.

Seven years before I was born my mother gave birth to twin girls Beatrix and Karin, both inherited my mother's beauty and incredible cunning. Their politically astute minds made them players in the Ostwick court at a young age. Though not to any sons of the Teryn, they secured additional marriage alliances with two of the most powerful families in the Free Marches. The future of the family was well secured, though I'm getting ahead of myself.

On a bright quite morning, Abigail though not as young as she used to be, was still a good looking woman as she cradled her fourth child. Like his siblings he had inherited her grey eyes though a part of her had wished he had inherited some of his father's traits. Lord Trevelyan had met his tragic end due to a carriage accident six months prior.

"Mother" a young Ulrich greeted softly as he entered the chamber flanked by his sisters who quickly ran up to see their younger sibling.

"So is this him?" the short haired Beatrix asked eagerly as she looked at the bundle of blankets

"He's…small…" the long haired Karin stated plainly.

"Beatrix please calm yourself, there's no need to startle him" Abigail sighed heavily as turned her gaze towards her first born "come see your little brother Ulrich."

"He is small" Ulrich chuckled softly as he looked into the babe's eyes which already contained a certain fierceness "that's quite a gaze you've got you there…what is his name?"

"I don't know, your father hadn't decided by the time he died and I've been so caught up I…" Abigail explained but all four members of the Trevelyan family's attention shifted when the baby was suddenly reaching outwards drawing their gaze towards the window opposite of Abigail's bed.

Perched on the windowsill was a falcon regarding the family with its fierce eyes which seemed focused on the newborn human. Its body was covered primarily in dark brown feathers though there were more than a couple long black tail feathers and the bird's underbelly was a soft brownish shade of white. The infant and the bird of prey regarded one another as the former's mother clenched him closer and his siblings stood between it and their sibling. However the gaze between the two remained unbroken.

After what seemed to be a minute of silence the Falcon turned its head back towards the heavens and spread its majestic wings before soaring away with the incredible speed which made it one of the region's apex predators.

"Well that was unusual" Karin stated calmly.

Abigail smiled intently "it would seem the Maker sent me a sign" she said in an aspired tone of voice as she regarded her youngest child "from this moment until your last, your name shall be Falke Trevelyan" she took a moment to regard the grey eyes which had a real fierceness to them just like the bird for whom he was named "I suspect many Mages will learn to fear you, as a Templar" her smile was confident as she imagined what she _**thought**_ the future would hold.

*Present Day*

"Wait a minute you're saying you were born into a devout Andrastian family _**and**_ your mother originally intended for you to become a Templar?" Josephine asked in sheer disbelief as Falke nodded and drank into his ale "that's…ironic…"

"Bitterly so" Falke said in agreement as he took another sip "though I'd probably still be as good looking, I doubt I'd have such a charming disposition if I hadn't been born with magic."

"Hold on a second Falke" the Iron Bull interjected "you mean to tell me you're only twenty three years old?"

"Adorable little scamp aren't I?" Falke asked in clear amusement drawing a laugh from the Qunari.

"Shit Falke, I knew you humans mature quickly but by Andraste's tits you make me feel old" Sera said in disbelief earning a laugh from Varric who obviously was enjoying the irony of his mother's initial plans more than the revelation of the Inquisitor's youth.

"_He's twenty three years old…"_ Cassandra thought in such stunned disbelief she didn't even hear Sera's reference to 'Andraste's tits' though she had to admit she took some amusement at trying to imagine Falke as a Templar _"…I suspected he was younger than me but…this is unbelievable…"_

"Yeah I'm fairly young even by human standards" Falke sighed heavily as he took another sip from his tankard "but even before the Breach…I saw my share of truly terrible things…" his expression had returned to a much more somber display "…I don't remember much about my life before the Circle but…"

*Flashback Year 22 of the Dragon Age*

As Josephine noted the Trevelyan family is known as a family of devote Andrastians, though how much of this is due to actual belief in the religion and how much of it is to curry favor and thus power from the Chantry varies from individual to individual I suspect. Regardless, it was custom within the family to groom the youngest children to serve as a Priestess or Templar. With my older brother set to marry the Teryn's daughter once they came of age and my sisters' success at court, that role fell to me since my mother was unlikely to have any children after me due to my father's death and her advancing age.

My earliest memories are of me training to use a sword, practicing archery, and reciting the chant of light. Of course I was only a small child at the time, I didn't really understand what exactly these "Mages" were that the sisters spoke of. At the time I was convinced that Mages had to be unnatural creates with horns, extra eyes and limbs, and who knows what else. Naturally concepts such as the Maker and the story of his wife and prophetess Andraste flew over my head. Looking back I suspect I was like most children in that regards.

In addition I was schooled in basics of politics, law, military strategy, and economics. All lessons I was to use to advance as a Templar and further the family's interests. Even by the time I joined the Circle I had an education few could match at that age. I suppose looking back it said something about me that despite how complicated and often nuanced these secular subjects were, they still made more sense to me than the chant of light.

That aside every time I mastered a lesson or part of the chant I noticed that my mother would look at me with one of her rare approving smiles, it motivated me to do better and better as I spent almost every single waking hour to my studies and practices. I advanced quickly through the lessons thanks in part to my own wit and the fact my teachers were the best money could buy, in a few years I'd be old enough to join the Chantry for the formal process.

A five year old Falke practiced swinging his wooden practice sword against the small target several times until eventually the 'blade' snapped off at the hilt and shot into the air before sinking into the ground nearby. Young Falke was breathing heavily as he looked at his broken 'weapon' only to have his attention drawn to the sound of a gentle clap.

"Ulrich" Falke called out happily as he ran towards his brother "you're back."

"You're strong for you age little brother" Ulrich said happily as he rubbed Falke's hair "Mother's speaking with the Teryn at the moment, why don't you come with me so we can have tea with Beatrix and Karin?"

"I'll race you brother" Falke smiled eagerly earning a gentle smirk from his elder sibling as they both darted for the highest balcony in the manor dodging servants and furniture, though due to his longer legs Ulrich handedly beat Falke to their destination though not by as much as he could have.

"You're getting faster Falke" Ulrich said with a smile before rubbing his little brother's head.

"It's good for you to join us Ulrich, Falke" Karin said politely as she began pouring four cups of tea.

"I tell you, you should hear how mother brags about you two" Beatrix chuckled as she hugged her little brother warmly before greeting her elder brother.

"It's nice to have us all together" Falke said in a cheerful tone as he accepted a cup from Karin and looked up to his older brother.

"Indeed, I have to say…" Ulrich replied "…I miss the view sometimes."

The Trevelyan manor was located on top of a tall hill on Ostwick's western side, from the balcony all four siblings had a view of the entire city. To their left were the mountains which shielded their great city and likely saved them from Qunari occupation centuries earlier. To their right they saw the large harbor were numerous ships were docked, Falke liked to play a little game where he'd guess where they came from, where they were going, and what exotic cargo they were carrying.

And of course the middle gave them a view of the entire city of Ostwick. Street after street lined with houses, shops, smithies, taverns, and so forth. Merchants and sailors, peasants and nobles lined the streets. On the opposite side of the city stood the Teryn's keep, an ancient and well-fortified castle, a symbol of power and authority for the whole city. A few blocks from the harbor in the center a patch of bare land stood a large tower, one the youngest child would grow all too familiar with in due time.

I saw little of my mother in this time and less of my brother Ulrich, on the other hand I saw my sister regularly. The studying and the training was difficult but hearing the praise of my teachers and seeing the proud smiles on my mother and siblings' faces made it all worthwhile. It was a challenging life, but a good one, like most children I could only hope that those days would last forever.

Naturally that was not to be.

*Year 23 of the Dragon Age*

Abigail, Beatrix, and Karin sat at a small table as they watched Falke spar with Ulrich using wooden swords. Ulrich for obvious reasons had little trouble keeping his six year old brother at bay but it wasn't for a lack of effort. Despite the fact that the wooden sword was almost as big as the boy who wielded it, Falke was able to swing it with a respectable amount of force for his size though it took both hands.

"Very good Falke" Ulrich praised as he parried his younger brother's thrust "you're strong, but you need to focus more" the older brother went on the offense forcing his much younger brother to backpedal as he struggled to block his brother's blows.

Falke's breathing became heavier and heavier as he was forced further and further back though his technique continued to improve ever so slightly. Though Ulrich was intentionally avoiding any direct hits on Falke's body, the boy's legs started to give way, he was approaching his limit.

"You're doing great, now" Ulrich assured "remember the key to battle…" he landed several relatively 'soft' blows against Falke's blade "…is to keep calm and maintain focus."

"_Keep calm…"_ Falke thought through weighted breaths as time seemed to slow down _"…maintain focus…"_ he gripped his sword tightly as the sounds of wood striking wood seemed to echo and at last he saw an opportunity _"…now!"_

With a great effort Falke swung his weapon and struck his brother's sword. But instead of a solid clunk there was explosion when the weapons met. Ulrich's snapped in two while half of Falke's blade shot off from the hilt like a missile slashing Ulrich's right cheek before burying itself in the ground. The sheer force of the explosion threw both boys back, slamming their backs into opposing bushes and eliciting a cry of pain from them both.

"_What…happened?"_ Falke asked himself in disbelief as Karin appeared in front of him, fear and worry evident in her usually stoic face "what happened?" Falke asked his elder sister as he saw Beatrix tending to his brother but received no answer when he looked down at his hands to see that they were glowing "what…is this?" out of the corner of his eye he noted Abagail standing in shocked disbelief at what she had just seen.

From there, there was no turning back. Thankfully my brother hadn't been seriously hurt though I imagine he had a number of bruises for a while. Once the shock wore off I immediately noticed that everyone in the manor was avoiding me, I could not find my mother or my siblings for hours. That night…everything changed.

As soon as the sun set, three fully armed Templars arrived at our door demanding I come with them. Their expressions were colder than ice and even as a six year old boy I could detect a hint of blood lust in their expressions. I was the for the first time in my life…frightened, truly frightened. Scared and confused I did what many children would have done, I ran.

The Templars pursued me relentlessly but due to the fact they were dressed in full plate armor and I knew my way around the manor, I was able to stay ahead of them. I honestly can't recall how long I avoided my pursuers, but it came to an abrupt end.

"Mother" Falke called out in relief as he entered the living room to see Abigail looking intently into the fireplace "there are men here with armor and swords…and they…" Falke heard them approaching and quickly grasped Abigail's skirt in desperation.

"Lady Abigail, we've arrived for the Mage" the lead Templar said through slightly strained breath "we'll take it off your hands."

"Mother…I'm scared…" Falke said in a frightened voice as he looked up to see that Abigail's face was contorting with rage before she tightly grasped Falke's shoulders and forced him off of her "…Mother?"

In an instant Abigail withdrew her right hand up to her left shoulder before slamming the back of her fist into young Falke's cheek knocking him to the ground and leaving tears in his eyes. Falke barely moved at all in response, the shock was simply too great.

"You…" Abigail hissed through gritted teeth "…are a mistake…" she took a step towards her fallen son and looked at him with pure contempt "…you should never have been born!"

Those were the last words I ever heard my mother speak. The shock was so great I didn't even notice that the Templars had picked me up by my arms and dragged me from my own home.

*Present Day*

"That's…that's horrible" Josephine said in sheer horror that someone could do and say such things to a child, any child, especially their own was almost beyond comprehension.

"Meh" Falke replied plainly as he emptied his mug and looked towards Cassandra as Bull filled one of his steins and silently offered it to the Inquisitor "ever since we've met you've wondered why I don't believe in the Maker."

"Have I ever asked such a question?" Cassandra responded though even she found it somewhat difficult to maintain her composure.

"Not in so many words but your expression have made it clear enough" Falke answered plainly "the short answer to your question is because your Chantry and its damned teachings took everything from me; they took my peace, they took my family, and they even took my name" a barely contained fury was evident in their leader's voice and for the first time, the men and women gathered could see a similarity between Falke and the Elven Mage he had executed earlier "and I'm far from the only one they did this to!" his tone was one of silent fury.

"So…let me get this straight" Varric said trying to ease the tensions but there was only so much even he could do "your mother learned you were a Mage, threw you to the Templars, and when you went to her out of fear she backhanded you and told you that you should never have been born?" the horror was evident in the beardless dwarf's face.

"Yep" Falke replied as he tried to speak in lighter terms but the wounds were still far too raw even after more than a decade and a half as he took a large sip from the stein Bull had filled for him and cracked a very twisted and broken smile "after that I fell on hard times" even the normally boisterous Sera could only look in stunned silence as Falke continued his tale.

*Year 23 of the Dragon Age*

"Magic exists to serve man, and to never rule over him" a middle aged balding male human dressed in the armor of the Templar's armor stated coldly as he looked over more than a dozen frightened children who stood gathered in a large circular room with only a single elderly human male who wore the robes of a senior enchanters standing silently in the back, his face was utterly broken.

Before I knew it, I was inducted into the Ostwick Circle of Magi along with other children who had discovered they could use magic. The Circle Mages I had been taught since birth were vicious monsters were little more than broken humans and elves who had almost no life in their eyes. The Templars who I had been taught were the righteous defenders of the innocent and agents of the Maker were nothing more than dangerous fanatics whose zealotry reduced them to little more than armored thugs.

Even after seventeen years I remember our "orientation" into the Circle as if it were yesterday. I never did learn the Templar's name but he insured that whatever innocence hadn't died when my mother struck and disowned me died that day. Thankfully it wasn't the only thing that died.

"Each and every one of you has been marked by Magic" the Templar continued as he paced in front of the frightened children "you are dangerous, diseased, and accursed; at any moment any one of you could become possessed by a demon or fall to the allure of Blood Magic" his blue eyes were cold as ice as he looked "that is why you live your lives in this Circle under **our**watch" he scanned the nervous children before settling on little elven girl from the Alienage "should any of you fall from the path or fail to serve the Chantry, we will do our duty and execute you" he reached out with his ungloved right hand and pulled the elven child towards him "what is your name Mage?"

"My…my name is…" the Elf child began but was cut off when the Templar slapped her upside her head knocking her to the ground, her cheek was glowing red.

"The correct answer is you don't have a name, names are for people not Mages" the Templar stated coldly as he moved onto the next Mage child.

It didn't take long for me to notice a pattern. First he'd walk up and ask a simple question from each of us. Then he would knock us to the ground with his bare hands. And finally say something dehumanizing before repeating the process for each child.

As soon as he struck the elf girl we were all afraid especially those of us who noticed a glimmer of amusement in his eyes every time he struck one of us. As he made his way through the new apprentices I began to pray desperately, to the Maker and his bride Andraste begging them to shield us from the madman, the only response I received was the sounds of my fellow Mages being beaten by the older man.

"What is your name Mage?" the Templar asked as he finally came to Falke.

"Falke Tre…" Falke replied without thinking before being struck to the ground like his fellow apprentices.

The truth of the matter is I didn't feel anything from his first strike, compared to the pain I felt from my mother…it was nothing. As he went back to the elven girl once again I resumed praying, but once again there was no response other than cries of pain from the other children. My fear was quickly supplemented with despair when I saw the older Mage's expression hadn't changed at all despite the brutality he was witnessing.

It was then that I realized what the point of the "orientation" was. It wasn't about their so called "duty" or about keeping us from trafficking with demons and engaging in Blood Magic, the point was to break us, to make us feel powerless. It was about power for the Templar.

As the abuse continued many of the children began to break telling the Templar what he wanted to hear. Some of us continued to "disappoint" him, especially me when he would ask "what is your name Mage?" and I would always respond "Falke" earning me a strike each and every time. I don't know what it was that kept me in defiance of the Templar but as the bruises began to accumulate my fear and despair grew before I began to feel a third dark emotion, rage.

"So you're the stubborn one this time around" the Templar sighed as all the other children sat in place shivering in fear "you've cost me fifty silver Mage" he grabbed the battered and bruised Falke by his collar and lifted him up so they were face to face "just submit yourself to the will of the Maker so we can call it a night."

"There's no such thing as the Maker you toad" Falke hissed as he shot the Templar an angry glare and spat in his face.

"Big mistake" the Templar replied as he literally threw Falke across the room causing the boy to crash into a wall with a pained yelp.

"_I'm…I'm not letting him win…"_ Falke thought angrily as the Templar approached him wearing his gauntlets as the boy got to his feet.

Falke let out a yelp of pain as the metallic fist dug itself into his stomach. The other children looked at the site before them in horror, Falke was to serve as an example for all of them.

"_Let me in and I will tear him limb from limb"_ a furious voice called out to Falke as the Templar punched him in the chest causing the young Mage to cough up a small amount of blood.

"_No, let me in and you shall have the power to crush him as you desire"_ a feminine voice called out in his mind as the Templar followed up with a left hook to Falke's head knocking out three of his teeth.

"Please stop this, he's just a boy" the Senior Enchanter begged only to be silenced by a cold furious glare from the Templar.

"If its opinion is wanted I will ask it" the Templar warned darkly causing the Senior Enchanter "this thing has some nerve, saying there's no Maker" he began to press his right boot into the boy's back earning another scream of pain causing the Senior Enchanter and the Apprentices could only watch in horror.

"_Let me in, and all will bow to you, as they should"_ a groveling voice called out to the young Mage.

"It…will…break…" the Templar stated with an icy calm voice as he pressed harder.

"I…I…will…" Falke said through a struggled voice as the demons continued to call out to him and he looked to his right to see his chance "…I will…"

Although I learned a new style of fighting after discovering my Magic there were some lessons from my old life that served me well. For example the back of the knee is a weak point for all four humanoid races though slightly less of a concern for Dwarfs due to their lower centers of gravity. Even for enemies wearing full plate such as Templars it has to be kept lightly armored so they can walk and run. If the opportunity presents itself all it takes is a slight amount of force to knock your enemy to the ground, it's so easy, even a child can muster the strength to take down a grown man.

The young Falke stretched his right arm out as far as he could and tightened his fist before swinging it horizontally and slamming into the Templar's left leg behind the knee cap causing his leg to bend reflexively. The Templar, Senior Enchanter, and Apprentices could only look in shock as the large man began to fall backwards.

Ignoring the pain ripping through his body, Falke pulled out before the armored man crushed him with his fall and leapt on top of him _"…just like Ulrich taught me…the key is to focus…"_ he thought as he clasped his hands around the shocked Templar's face before finishing his earlier sentence "…kill you!"

No sooner had the words left the fallen noble's mouth then the Templar's head was engulfed in flames before exploding with enough force to push Falke back several feet spraying him in blood, brain matter, skull fragments, and who knew what else. By the time the smoke cleared the Templar's head had been blown off completely, a pool of blood was quickly forming around the now open neck as the remains stained the floor and wall nearby.

"_You see that?"_ Falke replied to the demons who continued to try and claw their way into his mind _"I don't need your help, now leave!"_ the Senior Enchanter and the other Apprentices looked in combination of shock and horror as the sounds of approaching footsteps.

Falke let out a labored breath as he was about to collapse only to be steadied by the Senior Enchanter "you are strong" the old man said weakly as he looked into Falke's fierce grey eyes "don't let them take that from you son" the old man smiled softly as he brushed the younger Mage's cheek with his thumb.

"What in the name of Andraste happened in here?!" demanded a harsh human man who appeared in his late twenties with straw blonde hair and dark brown eyes as he saw the headless Templar "First Enchanter Melava get in here!" the Templar demanded.

"Calm yourself Knight Commander Able" a soft yet stern female voice replied as a tall, elderly elven woman with distinct tattoos on her face wearing black robes entered the room only to see the headless Templar and the bloody mess it had created "okay this is surprising, normally only a child or two dies during your men's 'orientation' process, nice to see your Maker has a sense of humor after all."

"This is no time for your snide remarks; now tell me who did this!" Abel demanded angrily as more Templars and frightened Mages entered the room.

"It was I Knight Commander" the old man lied earning him a shocked look from Falke "I…I couldn't do it…I couldn't just sit by and watch…this boy…he would have killed him…"

"_What are you doing old man?!"_ Falke wondered in disbelief as the old man smiled at him weakly.

"You know what must be done then" Abel stated coldly to Melava.

"Get it over with" Melava replied, her tone indicating more annoyance than any other emotion as her eyes fell on the bloodied Falke who was looking at the older man in dumb confusion.

"Thank you, my boy" the Senior Enchanter whispered as tears began to fall from his eyes "thanks to you…I can at least die like a man…" as soon as he finished, the point of Abel's sword emerged from just below his neck killing the old man instantly leaving Falke in a state of shock.

"The kids need medical help" Melava commanded sternly as she made her away over to Falke while Abel cleaned his blade "I see you're in rough shape, try to grin and bear it" Falke gritted his teeth in agony as the elf picked him up as gently as she could "what's your name boy?"

"Falke…Trevelyan…" Falke answered weakly.

"I see…do me a favor Falke" Melava said calmly "try to keep your head down for a while, it'd be a shame if his sacrifice was all for nothing" Falke's eyes shot open at her words before he nodded in understanding.

*Present Day*

"You killed your first man when you were six years old?!" Josephine asked in disbelief, the sheer graphicness disturbed her immensely.

"I've lived a charmed life" Falke snarked as he tried to take a sip from his stein only to see that his arm was twitching too much "oh for fuck's sake it's been seventeen years, this is pathetic."

"I'm sorry Lord Trevelyan" Josephine said weakly "I had no idea…it all must have been so terrible."

"I appreciate the sentiment but it doesn't matter" Falke replied plainly "with the exception of you, I'm pretty sure we're all killers here."

"You're trembling arm says otherwise" Varric said calmly though he to was disturbed at what he was hearing.

"I hope you killed that son of a bitch Knight Commander too" Sera chimed in.

"He got what was coming to him" Falke assured the elven woman before turning towards Cassandra asking "isn't this the part where you say something like 'the Chantry would never have condoned such behavior'?"

"I can't speak for what the Chantry would or would not have condoned" Cassandra admitted a sense of sadness and guilt was clear "after all I was once very angry…" she noticed Varric raise an inquisitive eyebrow "…angrier and had a deep hatred of Mages, once I probably would have condoned what they did."

"Well I'll be damned, we may be more alike than I thought" Falke chuckled darkly before rolling his eyes at his still shaking arm "now then, where was I…oh yeah, after I killed the Templar and was carried off for medical treatment…"


	3. Fear

**Author's Notes:** Here is the third chapter ladies and gentlemen, sorry about the delay but I was spending quite a bit of my time actually playing Dragon Age Inquisition among other things.

Just going to reiterate that this story isn't exactly full of sunshine and rainbows

Please read, review, and enjoy

**Chapter 3: Fear**

*Year 23 of the Dragon Age*

Young Falke was dressed in the dark blue robes with a simple staff of an apprentice on his back; his cheek had a large bandage which covered nearly half his face. His missing teeth left gaps in mouth and additional bruising on his chest and back made movement difficult. His eyes which weeks prior had been filled with joy and simple childish delight now more resembled the eyes of a corpse; the only signs of life being the vestments of fear and rage as a result of the recent trauma.

"I must say I'm surprised" First Enchanter Melava stated plainly as she walked up to the human child as they stood in sizeable round room with runes etched into the stones to prevent outsiders from listening in "usually every last apprentice breaks when the Templars hold their little welcoming ceremony, sometimes a child or two dies in the process."

Falk simply looked at the elven woman quietly.

"But in all my years as First Enchanter you are a unique apprentice" Melava continued as she kneeled down and gently cupped his uninjured cheek with her hand "without training you were able to control your magic well enough to land a fatal wound, not only that but you had the skill and instinct to kill a man several times your size."

"Apparently I'm a born killer" Falke stated dully "took forever to get the blood and brain matter out of my hair."

"Indeed" Melava chuckled at the human child's comment "although I'm still curious" Falke looked at her inquisitively "that Senior Enchanter, he was brought into this Circle almost sixty years ago, out of all the Mages in this tower he was perhaps the most broken among us yet something about you seemed to inspire him to lie on your behalf" the disturbing image of the elderly man's smiling face as Knight Commander Abel's sword pierced his chest still haunted Falke's sleep "not only that but the other were inspired enough not to tell the Templars the truth, you must have been a sight to behold" she removed her hand from his face "tell me something, how many of his questions did you answer 'correctly'?"

"None" Falke answered coldly.

"None…why am I not surprised?" Melava replied with a slight smirk on her face "I understand you're the youngest child from the Trevelyan family, I heard they originally planned to make you a Templar?"

"My mother made it clear I'm no longer part of the family" Falke stated bluntly, the irony that it was thanks in part to the martial lessons he had received in preparation for joining the order that allowed him to kill the Templar was not lost on him.

"I'm sorry to hear that child" Melava responded with only a faint trace of sadness in her voice "I was the keeper of my Dalish Clan until we came too close to the city and the Templars found me, it is…not an easy change to grow accustomed too."

"The keeper?" Falke inquired.

"Think of it as an elder of sorts for the clan, but I digress" Melava sighed as she recalled her old life "I trust you've heard that you and the other apprentices are to be assigned to an Enchanter for tutelage?" Falke nodded "well I've decided that your interesting enough that I'm going to train you personally" she turned her gaze towards a magical practice dummy on the opposite side of the hall as her left hand was engulfed in a soft purple light before firing a blast of pure energy at the target "lesson one, the key to controlling Magic is a focused and a disciplined mind to help control the flow and manipulate the form of mana."

After a grueling first day of training under Mevala, Falke found himself walking the halls of the Circle Tower until he was standing just outside the room where he and the Templar had their fateful encounter. The six year old boy's wounds instantly began to ache as he subconsciously forced himself to enter the chamber which was now eerily silent and empty.

Almost instantly the memories began to flash through the child's mind, the sight of the Templar as he beat his fellow children into submission, his frantic prayers to the Maker and his bride Andraste, prayers which went unanswered.

With a slight stumble Falke found himself standing in front of a stone wall which was still stained red with blood. His breathing became erratic as the fear, despair, and white hot fury returned. He recalled the voices of the demons which tried to tempt him, the sight of the Senior Enchanter as Knight-Commander Abel ran him through, and of course the most graphic memories of all.

He recalled with almost perfect clarity the feeling of the Templar's metallic fist which had placed him in the infirmary for a week. Falke remembered how the adrenaline numbed his pain and when the Templar pressed him to the ground with his boot how pure hatred seemed to pump through his veins instead of blood. Young Falke's hands began to shake uncontrollably as he recalled exactly how the Templar's head had literally exploded in his grasp.

The young Mage quickly cupped both his shaking hands over his mouth before he ran to the nearest washroom where he barely made it to a basin in time. Less than a minute later Falke's heartbeat had escalated rapidly and he found himself on the ground on all fours. He felt as if body temperature had dropped several degrees and was sweating profusely.

I was young, too young to understand fully what the implications were of my first day and what I had done. But even then I understood that I would never be the same, after all I had crossed a line which all people in ways that petty differences such as race, gender, sexuality, or religion never could. I had been alive on this miserable excuse of a world for only six years at that point and I was already a killer.

*End Flashback*

"I don get it, why were you so worked up?" Sera asked in a confused tone of voice.

"You…regretted killing that man?" Josephine half asked, half stated.

"But why?" Sera repeated "he was a tit."

"True, but I was six years old Sera and it was my first" Falke stated calmly as he took a sip of ale from the stein Iron Bull had given him though he struggled with his shaking arms "tell me something Cassandra, Varric, Iron Bull, Sera…how do you deal with all the lives you've taken?"

"I remind myself that they were threatening innocent people and it was my duty to stop them" Cassandra answered but she thought back to a younger, angrier woman "though initially it had more to do with vengeance than anything else; I confess at the time I didn't care though after that I resolved to be better."

"It's not something I've ever taken pleasure in and I've at least tried to find solutions that didn't involve blood shed" Varric explained "I can understand how you felt, I had some troubles after the first person I killed; as they say it gets easier, but in the grand scheme of things that's probably not a good thing."

"I was literally bred to be a killing machine" Iron Bull stated plainly "for me it's been limited to rebels, savage Tal-Vashoth, mercenaries, and of course Red Templars and Venatori Mages" he quickly drained his stein "I made a point not to make it personal, though I've known more than a few good people who have had reactions like yours and we were all much older than you when we killed our first men."

"Pft, they were all asses who deserved an arrow in the face" Sera stated with a rather callous tone.

"I don't know if I should envy you or pity you Sera" Falke sighed heavily earning him a slight glare from the elf "in any case that was also when I met her…"

*Year 23 of the Dragon Age*

"Are you alright child?" a soft voice asked earning a quick glance from Falke as he met eyes from a human woman in her fifties with soft white hair and brown eyes wearing a very familiar set of white robes "by the Maker you're pale as a sheet" she took a step towards the young Mage only for Falke to quickly back away.

"Stay away from me" Falke hissed though the panic was evident in both his voice and his body though he nearly collapsed but was caught the Sister's gentle hands, Falke was simply too weak to protest.

"I'm not going to hurt you child" the Sister assured the young Mage as she pulled out a clean cloth and began to clean the sweat from his face "your robes are soaked" she stated as she lead him to a small room and handed him a change of clothes "what is your name young man?"

"Falke Trevelyan" Falke answered half expecting the woman to strike him like the Templar but the blow never came.

"I am Sister Victoria, it is nice to meet you Falke" Victoria said gently as she noticed the bandages over his ribs "by the Maker what happen…"

"Templars" Falke answered bluntly as he slipped into a clean set of blue robes _"I guess I'm not as tough as I thought"_ he took a sip of water to clean the taste of bile from his mouth "Thank you Sister Victoria, I had best return to my studies."

"May the Maker guide and keep you" Victoria stated politely.

"Respectfully there is no such thing as the Maker" Falke replied without even the slightest sign of emotion.

"You've lost your faith?" Victoria inquired.

"I'm not sure what I believed" Falke answered with a stoicism which did not belong in a six year old boy's voice "but whatever faith didn't die when my mother told me I should never have been born, died when I prayed to the Maker to protect me and the other children and the only response we received was silence."

Victoria said nothing to me in response, I imagine I was a rather sad and pathetic sight at the time.

From that day forward I continued to train under First Enchanter Mevala. Barriers, dispelling, fire, frost, and particularly lightning came under my command; it was bitter work but the results were worth it. In just a couple years every Mage and most of the Templars in the tower knew my name because of my skills.

With each lesson I mastered there seemed to be two more, as difficult as they were at the time they were the brightest part of my life. Though she rarely spoke I noticed that First Enchanter Mevala would occasionally smile softly at my progress. In time the Mages of Ostwick became my new family, this both helped me keep my sanity but it also made life that much more painful.

With the possible exception of Kirkwall, the abuse of Mages by the hands of Templars were apparently worse in Ostwick than anywhere else in the Free Marches if not Thedas in general. Less than a month after I started my training there was another batch of apprentices who were put through the Templars' "orientation."

Like when I went through it they gathered all the apprentices, human and elven children aging from four or five years old to eleven or twelve years old. One difference however was that instead of simply having one Templar and one Senior Enchanter present for their sick little game they were now gathering everyone who wasn't away on mission into the great hall. If anyone even tried to do what I did there would be no way for someone else to take the fall. Knight-Commander Abel oversaw everything.

Most of the older Mages and Apprentices showed no emotion during the brutality as the Templars would go from child to child, ask them a seemingly innocent question such as "what is your name?", strike the child for a less than satisfactory answer, say something demeaning, and then move onto the next child. Most broke after two or three strikes, a few required five to seven, the most stubborn of them took ten or more; every other time there was at least one or two children who tried to fight back but to no avail. As soon as the last child broke they were carried off to the Medical Ward.

These "orientations" occurred roughly every month or two. As best as I could tell a child or two died every third or fourth time due to a combination of willfulness from the child or excessiveness of the Templar "assigned" to the duty. In the latter cases the Templar's only punishment was to receive "remedial training" on how to properly exercise non-lethal force, after all a dead Mage was like a broken sword, of no use to the Chantry or anyone, but unlike a broken sword which can be repaired by almost any decent smith, there is no brining a Mage back from the grave.

Regardless whenever a child died from the Templars' beatings before submitting virtually every Mage felt three feelings for them. First there was sadness at seeing such a young life so senselessly cut short by a fanatical thug. Then came relief that they at least would be spared from the horrors that the rest of us would have to endure due to an accident of birth. And lastly came admiration, especially for those who fought back against the Templars because they died rather than give into the Templars.

About two years after coming to the Circle it dawned on me why First Enchanter Mevala, the Senior Enchanter who took the fall for me, and the other senior members of the Circle seemed to put so much stock in me. It wasn't because I was talented at magic, though that was and remains an undeniable fact, but because of what I did that day. Not only did I refuse to give in, I fought back. Not only did I fight back, but I actually succeeded and killed the Templar before he could kill me, I was both the first and the last Mage in the history of the Ostwick Circle to do so.

For those of us who made it past the Orientations we were subject to intense scrutiny by the Templars. The slightest deviation from their rules, real or imagined resulted in severe beatings sometimes involving the pummels of their swords or the faces of their shields. More than a few women and girls and more than a couple men and boys were taken away to be raped during my tenure. Knight-Commander Able would often host little "sermons" where he'd discuss proper technique and exalt the righteousness of such actions.

Sister Victoria did her best to protect us but she was only one woman. She rarely left the tower for fear of what might happen should the Templars be left completely without supervision. Any correspondence she attempted to send were reviewed carefully by Knight-Commander Abel to ensure she was not trying to report the abuses. Although my faith in the Maker had died, nowhere in the Tower was safer than Victoria's small Chantry.

Naturally the constant stress and fear lead a number of Mages to use Blood Magic to either protect themselves or strike out against the Templars, sometimes these Mages turned into Abominations. I can't remember if I was seven or eight the first time I saw an abomination but I know it was fairly early.

It was one of my elven sisters, she was in a relationship with another one of our brothers and had gotten pregnant as a result. As was the rule in Circles her child was taken from her as soon as it was born, she never got to hold it or even learn if it was a boy or girl. Upon being released from the medical ward and being consoled by the father she turned her gaze upon the three Templars who were on patrol and shrieked "GIVE ME BACK MY BABY!"

The Templars turned towards her and began to march towards her in a threatening manner. Her lover stood between them and tried to calm them all down and was stabbed through the heart with a knife by the middle Templar for his trouble. The look on her face was one of abject despair as tears flowed down her eyes, indeed I felt my own blood boil at the cold blooded murder.

I suspect my elven sister did not think after seeing her lover killed right before her eyes. No sooner had his body hit the ground then she viciously bit into her own left hand drawing blood. Before the Templars could even draw their swords she sent a blast of pure power at the Templar who had just killed her lover. The spell hit with such force that he was thrown clear across the hall and the force of the impact had bashed his skull in.

Her body began to twitch unnaturally as she began to mutate into a twisted monstrosity that barely had any of her once elegant features. The two remaining Templars drew their swords and thrust them into her body earning a cry of pain as blood flowed from her wounds however she quickly wrapped her "hands" around their heads and snapped their necks with the strength of an ox.

I felt nothing but pity for her as she turned her tortured, mangled face towards me and started to dash in my direction.

"I'm sorry" the young Falke whispered as his left hand glowed a whitish shade of purple before hurling a bolt of lightning at the charging abomination blowing a small hole through her head and causing her to slide to an abrupt stop on the floor, after a brief silence he looked upon the dead Templars and quietly said "pity you couldn't have killed more of them sister."

That was the reality of life in Ostwick, it was brutal, painful, and wrong. I did my best to avoid the Templars and focus on my studies under First Enchanter Mevala though I still could not fully escape them. Every time I saw one of my fellow Mages beaten, hauled off to be raped, or killed, every time one of my sisters had her baby taken from her, every time I saw one of my fellow Mages driven over the edge I swore "never again." Of course it was just bullshit on my part, I lived in fear just like my brothers and sisters and for nearly fifteen years I did _**nothing**_.

The only bright spot was that the rite of tranquility was never used while I was in Ostwick though its use was threatened virtually every other day. Looking back I suppose it makes sense; Rape and Abuse are not about sex and physical violence, those are simply a means to an end. Both crimes are really about power, about domination over others. Though it is a fate worse than death the Tranquil have no wills to be violated, they do not feel fear, despair, or any kind of emotional pain. Raping or beating a tranquil would be like raping or beating a roasted nug, no satisfaction at all to be had.

*Present Day*

"I don't understand, there was nothing in the records to indicate conditions even remotely resembled what you described when we looked into your past" Cassandra stated with a slight tone of confusion "furthermore there were reports from Seekers showing that everything was normal in Ostwick."

"Knight-Commander Abel was many things Cassandra, but he wasn't stupid enough to put such things down in writing, plus with only one exception that I'm aware of every Templar who served in Ostwick is dead so you only had fabricated records to look to" Falke explained "as for the Seekers who came by, what was it you said in Haven, 'if we didn't see a problem then it didn't exist' or something to that effect?"

"But it was our duty to look into corruption within the Templars" Cassandra replied angrily.

"If by 'corruption within the Templars' you mean making sure they stayed loyal to the Chantry then your order did a fantastic job…at least until they started undermining the Divine and rebelled against the Chantry but then again Lord Seeker Lambert and most of the order lead that effort as I understand" Falke chuckled earning a glare from the Seeker which had no effect on the Inquisitor, he was far too pissed off recalling all the painful memories despite his humorous facade "of course if you meant making sure Mages were treated 'properly' whatever that means, well…you're a smart woman I'm sure can see the problem if that's the goal."

"Enlighten me" Cassandra replied as she rolled her eyes.

"For almost a thousand years the Chantry has preached that Mages are not people but monsters that might turn into abominations at a moment's notice, the ranks of the Templar Order were by and large filled with candidates chosen for two qualities, the first was their physical strength and the second was their unquestioning faith so they would not hesitate to carry out their duties without question" Falke began his tone maintained a thin veil of amusement though his fury was clear to all save Sera "Seekers as I understand it are chosen at least in part because their adherence to this belief was stronger still than the Templars'…tell me how exactly is an order of people who are unquestionably dedicated to such a teaching supposed to insure that Mages were treated 'fairly'? Whatever in the void that means."

"Does sound like a systematic problem if ever there was one Seeker" Varric sighed into his drink earning a death glare from the black haired Seeker.

"Surely not all the Templars were like that" Josephine interjected trying to ease the tensions before Cassandra's anger management problems lead to violence.

"You're right, there were Templars who didn't take part in the abuse, some even protested it" Falke stated plainly as he took another swig of Ale earning an approving gaze from Cassandra and a relived look from Josephine "the ones who refused to at least remain complicit seemed to die under rather…unusual circumstances" once again Cassandra was frowning and Josephine feared her best of intentions may have backfired.

"Hey I've got a question for you" The Iron Bull chimed "my understanding was Mages go through some kind of trial once they've matured but Mages who didn't want to go through with it could request to be made Tranquil, what did the Templars at Ostwick do?"

"The Harrowing, yes" Falke replied "Mages who did not wish to take the Harrowing because they feared failure were forced to through it anyway" the Inquisitor smiled slightly "joke was on them, four out of five Mages they forced through the Harrowing passed" he audibly chuckled as he took a sip of ale "it was motivated by sadism, but it was an admittedly unique act of kindness we enjoyed in Ostwick."

"The Rite of Tranquility is supposed to be used to protect Mages who are unable to control their abilities, not to terrorize" Cassandra sighed heavily.

"That's a load of shit" Falke swore softly, his anger was roused once more.

"What are you saying we should have simply killed them or forced them through the Harrowing?" Cassandra asked her own temper flaring up again, Josephine and Varric feared there would be bloodshed.

"Yes" Falke replied without even a second's pause, his voice carried so much venom that even Cassandra and Iron Bull were visibly terrified of their leader for a moment his eyes resembled storm clouds "if you fear me so much then kill me, but don't take away everything that makes me a person, after all I'd do the same for any of you."

Varric felt a very familiar charge in the air though Falke was not using his magic at the moment. He experienced this feeling a few times in Kirkwall when the normally affable and humorous Hawke was dealing with someone who managed to really piss him off such as Quinten, Anders after he blew up the Chantry, Orsino when he revealed his connections to Quinten and resorted to blood magic, and Meredith after she invoked the right of Annulment.

There was a lot about magic Varric didn't know and suspected he would never understand, but he was smart enough to know one thing; angering a powerful Mage was _**not**_ a wise move. Even after all his years, the Dwarf had still had trouble understanding what could motivate people to do something so stupid and often suicidal as to cross powerful Mages like Hawke and Falke.

While Cassandra scared the shit out of him sometimes, that fear was nothing compared to what Falke was inspiring at the moment. Varric could swear that he saw sparks in the Inquisitor's eye and felt a very definite chill in the air. Even the normally brash and headstrong Cassandra seemed to be backing down and not because of rank. If there was one word that could describe the normally friendly and occasionally hilarious Falke at this particular moment, that word would be **terrifying**.

"Admittedly most Circles were not as bad as Ostwick and Kirkwall, but the very system the Chantry had established was doomed to fail at some point" Falke continued "some such as the Circle in Lake Calenhad from what I hear could be described as 'gilded cages', but the fact still remained that we had been sentenced to a life of imprisonment and service all because of an accident of birth" the Inquisitor locked gazes with Cassandra "the Chantry told us it was to protect us from the world that fears us, though they conveniently left out the part that it was they who taught the world to fear us, the truth is they simply wanted to monopolize us as weapons for their own use" his voice dropped to a low growl "it was **evil** and it was **wrong**."

"Just say it already" Cassandra stated.

"Very well, I don't know what the Chantry might try to decide in the months ahead but I will give you this warning" Falke's voice had grown dark and dangerous "if the Chantry tries to reinstate the Circles, if it tries to enslave us again, then the Chantry **will die** even if I have to tear the Grand Cathedral apart with my bare hands over Vivienne's and your dead bodies!"

"Do you have any idea how much chaos that would cause?!" Cassandra retorted angrily "the purpose of the Inquisition is to restore order."

"That's the thing though, the old order has failed, what we need is a **new** order" Falke replied darkly "and sometimes to create a new order you must first **burn down** the old order" a dangerous smirk crossed the young Mage's face "but I digress, I'm supposed to be telling you my story and how it relates to that Apostate I killed in the Main Hall earlier today…"

*Flashback*

"Falke are you alright?" Mevala asked in concerned tone of voice as she and Victoria approached him in one of the Tower's smaller rooms.

"I'm fine she didn't touch me" young Falke answered "I'd say 'I wish the Templars had been so lucky' but I'd be lying."

"Thank the creators" Mevala sighed in relief "while it saddens me that we lost two of our own, I'm glad that you're alright" the elven woman hugged the human boy in an almost maternal matter.

"Falke, I need to ask you something" Victoria said in a concerned tone of voice "could you have saved any of those Templars?"

"Probably" Falke replied as plainly as if he were discussing the weather "I must say I never imagined the sounds of cracking necks would be so…soothing."

"It's all about whose necks are breaking I suppose" Mevala chimed.

"Falke, why didn't you try at least?" Victoria asked with a heavy voice.

"Isn't it obvious Vici?" Mevala replied in confused disbelief "because they were Templars, why would any Mage stick their necks out for a Templar?"

"Exactly" Falke added "her lover tried to calm the situation down and they responded by stabbing him through the heart, those three deserved to die."

"Still shouldn't you try to be better than that?" Victoria half pleaded.

"Last I checked I don't steal babies from their mothers" Falke answered coldly as he extended his left index finger "I also don't beat, rape, or kill people just because I can and try to claim it's in service to a petty god" he extend his left middle finger "and I'm pretty sure I'm not involved in the systematic oppression of countless people based upon an accident of birth" he extended his left ring finger "so I'd say that I'm still better than the Templars."

"They were still people Falke" Victoria stated as she eyed the boy sternly.

"You know something dawned on me after I killed that Templar during my orientation" Falke began with a much calmer more level tone of voice "he's never going to hurt anyone ever again and now neither will the three who died this afternoon."

"You have to admit Vici the world is a better place without them" Mevala chimed.

"You kill one or two people and you solve so many problems, makes you wonder about the possibilities" Falke continued "Imagine if we could round up every Templar in Thedas and kill them all in one fell swoop then feed their bodies to the pigs" a disturbing smile spread across the young Falke's face and the listening audience shivered slightly.

"Falke I'm worried about you" Victoria said clearly distraught "you can't let this hatred you feel define who you are."

"And what do you suggest?!" Falke snapped eliciting a hurt look from Victoria "my own mother cast me aside like I was nothing, I've taken a life, I saw a man throw his life away to protect me, I've seen people brutalized and killed for no reason!" Falke's body began to shake uncontrollably "all I've known since I've come here is **fear, **and now you're trying to tell me I shouldn't hate the Templars who caused it?"

"I understand your anger Falke but if you let this fear and hatred dictate who you are" Victoria began "it will turn you into something ugly…and I don't mean an abomination…"

"Again what do you suggest?" Falke asked though his voice was far weaker "I may be a child but I'm no fool, I've lost my birth family, my adoptive family has been condemned to a lifetime of imprisonment, I will grow old and eventually die in this damned tower" a single tear crept down the child's right cheek "what kind of sick joke is this, forcing us to live in fear?"

"I'm sorry Falke, I don't have any answers for you and I understand if you hate me as well" Victoria replied as she gently brushed the boy's tears aside "tell me, do you know what the most powerful force in the world is?"

"I'm guessing you mean the Chantry, or perhaps faith in the Maker" Falke replied weakly "I've had more than enough of both Sister Victoria."

"No it isn't the Chantry or religious faith" Victoria assured the boy "even if you disregard the Chant of Light some things are undeniable about Andraste's tale" she smiled gently at the young Mage "a thousand years ago the Imperium dominated Thedas, their tyranny was absolute and the power they wielded seemed to border on omnipotence, no one believed they could be defied; it was a dark time made all the worse by the chaos of the First Blight..."

"Until Andraste came that is" Mevala continued "think about it Falke, regardless of what she really was Andraste was able to raise an army of Almarri tribesmen, Dalish Elves, and though the Chantry would deny it I suspect a sizeable number of Mages" the First Enchanter gently brushed her apprentice's hair with her slender fingers "and together they successfully rebelled against the Imperium."

"Mevala…have you told him yet?" Victoria asked curiously as she watched her comfort the boy.

"No, I felt it was best to prepare him for his Harrowing first" Mevala answered earning a nod from the Chantry Sister "tell me, if not faith or some kind of god what could have given them the power to do such things?"

"I…I don't know…" Falke replied in an exhausted tone of voice.

"The most powerful force in all of creation, something stronger than the greatest steel and more awe inspiring than the powerful spell" Victoria explained with a gentle smile on her face as Falke looked tearfully into her eyes "it's a strength that not even the mightiest of nations could never destroy, a power great enough to overcome fear."

"What is it?" Falke asked.

Victoria cupped Falke's cheek gently with her right hand before answering "**Hope**."

**Author's Notes:** And that's chapter 3 boys and girls. Looks like this story is going to go on a little longer than I initially planned but that's the nature of writing (just ask Varric). In any case my main goal with this chapter was to portray Falke as a very emotionally traumatized individual (even by the standards of Thedas), I'm planning for the next chapter to have a more triumphant feel.

If you enjoyed this please leave a review, even if it's only a few short sentences it helps make all the work worth the while.


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